Leather Gloves
by SilentGreenThief
Summary: While on one of their regular escapades to the shops for chocolate and cigarettes, Matt is reminded of why he fell in love with Mello in the first place. Slash, don't like it? Don't read it! MattxMello, post-canon.


The leather gloves were warm to the touch, still clinging onto the heat of their owner, left sitting on the seat of the motorcycle. Still rumbling softly, the engine let out a purr that met with the whisper of hushed voices in the icy morning air. The motorcycle was a sleek, shiny creature bathed in the colour of night, the light of the stars making themselves visible in the shimmering silver of metal. Crimson beads glistened, wrapped around the cool metal of one handle. A cross dangled from the end of the rosary, obsidian rejecting the light of the morning sun.

Voices grew louder as the two occupants of the motorcycle drew nearer, one gently clasping a generic plastic bag filled with grocery items. Not one of the bystanders dared to pass comment on the sheer amount of chocolate in the bag, scared into silence by the glare of the more effeminate of the pair. His blonde bob audibly swished as he threw one leg over the motorcycle, pulling the gloves on as he looked in the direction of the other rider.

"Mello, did we really need _that_ much chocolate? You just bought ten bars yesterday."

The redhead wasn't surprised to receive a glare in response, ignoring his partners' gaze as he shoved the bag into one of the two leather compartments on either side of the motorcycle.

"I ran out."

Matt sighed as he climbed on behind the blonde, carefully adjusting the well-loved Nintendo DS in his jacket pocket.

"And yet you constantly complain about the amount of cigarettes I smoke. I smoke maybe five or six cigarettes in a day. How many bars of chocolate do you eat in a day?"

It was a familiar argument, one that the two had nearly every day. To be honest, Matt wasn't entirely sure why he bothered – though it might have to do with Mello's constant attempts to make him give up smoking.

"Chocolate won't give me lung cancer."

"It'll give you diabetes. I don't understand how you haven't had a heart attack yet."

"And I don't understand how _you_ love those cancer sticks so much. Switch to chocolate. It's way better for you."

"If you give me that antioxidant bullshit again, I'm hiding your chocolate bars. And don't call them cancer sticks."

"Cancer sticks. That's what they are. If you don't like it, stop smoking them."

"Heh. I'll stop smoking when you give up chocolate."

Mello laughed in response, the edges of his scar crinkling where it met his mouth. The scar… Mello hated it. If anybody mentioned it, Mello would shut himself off, giving one word answers and glares in place of actual conversation. Angry and red, it stretched from just above his hip, spreading out over one half of his chest and curling around a shoulder before it crept up to claim a good portion of his face. It made him look ten times more dangerous, ten times more menacing and, well, in Matt's opinion, ten times more badass. The vivid scarlet made his ice blue eyes gleam like hardened crystals.

It was almost as red as Matt's hair – a rare shade of auburn that most people thought was dyed. Apparently it brought out the green in his hazel eyes, but Matt didn't have his eyes visible enough for most people to notice. He hated people seeing his eyes. When he was a small child, his grandmother had told him "Eyes are the windows to the soul." After he had seen the insanity in the eyes of his mother when she held the gun to her temple, Matt had decided that he didn't want his soul on show. Mello understood – he may not wear goggles like Matt, but he wore a mask that most couldn't see past, a mask that he had used to survive during his time in the mafia. Most people thought that Mello was exactly as he seemed – cruel and unforgiving. Matt knew differently. Mello wasn't exactly kind and caring, but there was a side to him not many saw… A side that Mello didn't let most people see.

Matt was the exception.

The engine rumbled loudly as they pulled up in front of their shared apartment, its growl scaring off a tabby cat that had been sleeping on one of the balconies. A click and swish silenced the purring motor, Mello pulling the key out and shoving it unceremoniously into his pocket.

"Well, I'm not giving up chocolate. So I guess you can keep smoking for a bit longer." Mello threw a smirk back over his shoulder as he hopped off the motorcycle, tapping the stand out to hold the bike upright.

Matt rolled his eyes as he climbed off, (not nearly as gracefully as the blonde, but Matt had always been his own special kind of awkward) joining Mello in front of their door with a slight smile. "Then I guess you can keep your chocolate."

"Would you mind actually getting it then?"

Mello's smirk widened when he saw Matt realize he hadn't actually grabbed the bag of groceries out of the motorcycle compartment. The redhead sighed as he went over to collect their loot, ignoring the amused gaze of his partner. Noticing that Mello had forgotten to put his riding gloves into the pocket on the side of the bike, he gently tucked them into their rightful place, smiling as he realized that they were actually one of his old pairs.

Specifically, the pair Matt had given to Mello the day before the blonde had run away from the orphanage they grew up in.

Cruel and unforgiving? He could be. But that's not all he was.

The gloves were just one more reminder of that.

* * *

I wrote this one a while back for our creative writing assessment in English, and I've been meaning to upload it ever since. I'm actually quite proud of this one, and feel it's one of my best pieces of writing. Having said that, nothing is perfect, so if you notice any mistakes or things I could improve upon, please feel free to let me know in your review so I can continue to improve!

Bright blessings,

SilentGreenThief. x


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